


Dreamer

by skylar



Category: Avengers (Comic), Captain America (Comics), Iron Man (Comic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Tentacles, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-30 07:41:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skylar/pseuds/skylar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a child is difficult but Tony has Steve to ease childhood hardship.  Tentacle fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Steve and Bucky

**Author's Note:**

> I'm listing the chapter titles here to provide some information on the plot (or the lack thereof) and outline of my story so that you can decide whether you want to read it.
> 
> Chapter 1: Steve and Bucky  
> Chapter 2: The Arrival of Dr. Samson  
> Chapter 3: One Step Away from Insanity  
> Chapter 4: The Reunion  
> Chapter 5: I Belong to You

The beer bottle is now in eight jagged pieces, one of which still resembles its former unbroken shape before it was smashed into the floor, the deep amber liquid indistinct from the wooden surface as it spreads.

Tony is finding it difficult to breathe. His stomach is hurting, his sensitive nose itching and his throat cinching up from the strong malty smell permeating the stuffy air.

“You’re disappointing me, boy! No child of mine will cry over a dead dog! Do you understand? Do you?” Howard yells and points a finger at Tony’s face, daring him to speak up, anger twisting up his face and etching deep indentation between his brows.

Tony nods mutely, his mouth curling down even more, his jaw trembling, and there are pinpricks in his eyes and dry tear tracks on his cheeks but he’s not crying.

At seven, Tony is too old to cry.

“What if your mother sees you like this?” Howard asks, shaking his head disapprovingly. It is another minute before Howard leaves with angry footsteps after telling him to clean up.

Presently, Tony hears a door opening and shutting. When he blinks, two big fat tears roll down and follow the paths on the sides of his nose. They taste salty and just a little disgusting.

Tony wipes his face with the front of his tee—one size too large for his tiny frame. Then, he bends down to pick up the broken glass and drops them into a small garbage bin by the desk. Since the cut on his finger doesn’t feel much more than a sting, he doesn’t pay attention to it until he tries to wipe the floor with a wad of tissues and finds that the blood is making the floor even messier.

/And now, not just Howard is disappointed in him but mother will be as well when she sees it since she’s always quite unhappy with the disorganized state of his room,/ Tony thinks bitterly as he fetches two towels from his closet, one to cover the spill and another to wrap around his hand.

Naturally, it seems whenever he messes up, he is caught red-handed. At the moment, all he wants is to be alone and wait for the stupid cut to stop bleeding to be presentable again but he is not quite lucky.  There are sounds of clicking heels signaling his mother’s approach and they seized his heart with panic.

Can’t lie to mother—he’s not good at it yet. Can’t shut himself in his room since it has no lock.

The only option he can think of is outside. Around the back of their mansion, there’s a small path down the cliff leading to a natural observation ledge protruding over the water. It’s supposed to be one of the main attractions of the place along with five miles of private oceanfront. As far as Tony concerns, no one has ever come here. Howard is both an engineer and a business man, married to his work and the bottle while his mother is often sick, having always been so ever since his birth—another fault of his because he is such a failure of a son and the best he can do is ‘not good enough’.

After a few minutes of running and slipping down the slope in his haste, Tony arrives at his destination where he sits on the ledge’s edge with his legs hanging down and waits for his heart to stop pounding. Tears are threatening to spring to his eyes again and he has to remind himself that he’s not allowed to cry. He misses Leo, the giant dog, who wasn’t particularly bright or able to understand more than three verbal commands. Still, Leo was a constant present every day to play balls and run with him in the morning until one day, Leo wasn’t anymore.

For a little while, Tony doesn’t move, watching the cloud reflection in the water and listening to the steady rhythmic sound of ocean waves.

Then, through the still air comes a laugh too faint that Tony thinks he misheard it. When he searches for the source, he discovers two figures from afar swimming toward him with great speed as if in a race, one of them a good ten feet ahead, and the distance between them increases further the closer they approach Tony’s location.

The faster one reaches the cliff first, tagging an unremarkable rock with his hand before smoothing his short golden hair while waiting for the slower one.

“I’ll beat you one day,” the blond’s companion says breathlessly once he swims near, clinging to the rock like an anchor.

“I would like to see you try, Bucky.” The blond laughs and pushes Bucky under. A few minutes later, Bucky pops back up, titling his head backward so that water drips away from his face.

That is when he notices Tony staring.

Silently and curiously, they observe each other as Tony wonders if these two are the mermen from his Little Mermaid picture book.

“What’s wrong?” Steve nudges Bucky’s arm, receives no response, glances up and sees Tony too.

“Hey, little buddy.” Bucky waves at him, his lips spreading into a wide grin, “Come down here with us and play?”

“I’m Steve and this is my friend, Bucky. What’s your name, kiddo?” Steve introduces with a smile. Tony can’t tell the color of his eyes or his features from this distance but Steve radiates such friendliness that Tony finds himself instantly trusting Steve.

“Tony. My name is Tony,” he says out loud, waving his uninjured hand, momentarily forgotten his grief. “Are you two mermen?”

Bucky snorts, suppressing a laugh.

“Atlanteans, not mermen. How old are you?”

“Seveennn,” Tony drawls and puffs his chest.

“Ah,” Bucky exclaims. “You’re a big boy, aren’t you? If you jump down, we’ll take you to the beautiful undersea kingdom of Atlantis. There’re a lot of girls there.”

Immediately, Steve turns to Bucky. “No, we can’t.”

"Yes, he can."

While Steve and Bucky are arguing among themselves, Tony fiddles with his shoe lace, undecided.

“Come on. If you don’t jump, we’re going to leave,” Bucky shouts, ignoring Steve.

/Leaving him. They’re going to leave him. Alone./ Tony thinks with trepidation.

“Don’t... Don’t leave. I’m coming.”

Tossing the ruined towel to one side in a hurry, Tony kicks off his shoes and starts working on his shirt as fast as he can.

Steve switches his attention from Bucky to him and shouts out, “Wait, Tony. Don’t do it! Stop!”

“Don’t listen to him!” Bucky yells to drown out Steve’s words.

If mother has been around more, she would tell him not to listen to strangers. Tony is intelligent but young, lonely and socially awkward, having been home-schooled and living in a sheltered environment to know better.

At the moment, Tony is busy to focus on his form with his arms rising high above his head and his thumbs hooked together, mimicking the divers he’s seen on TV. Then, he bends his knees, jumps forward and plunges head down unhesitatingly. For a few long seconds of freefalling, it feels like flying, everything fading around him leaving the expansive blue below and the wind speeding by his ears. Tony can’t remember ever having been this free before.

The moment is cut short right after he sinks down, pressure pushing against him from all sides, the salt water burning the cut on his finger, painful enough that if he’s not busy trying to figure out which way is up, he probably will tear up again. It is quite deep and dark below to see clearly. He has to exhale a little by the time he catches the dim light of what that must be the surface. Kicking his feet, he tries to swim toward it but something slippery like a snake suddenly coils around his left leg and another loops around his waist. Simultaneously, two more wind around his upper torso and as he tries to disentangle himself, he feels even more of them, some entwining and overlapping each other when they can’t find any free skin to latch on to.

Horror rises in the pit of his stomach. Water rushes into his mouth and nose, entering his stomach and lungs as he struggles desperately, almost twisting his shoulder socket in the process.

/Can’t escape. Can’t breathe. This must be what drowning feels like./ Tony thinks vaguely, swallowing another mouthful of water, his eyelids heavy and his strength draining.

A few seconds after, he finds himself lifted into the air where he hangs limply, gasping, wheezing, vomiting and coughing up water with tears streaming down his face.

“Look at his two bottom limbs!” Tony hears Bucky say excitedly as he’s turned from side to side like a ragged doll. It comes to him then that the tentacles around his body are appendages from Bucky. He’s not a human!

“Bucky, he’s just a kid!” Steve reproves and reaches out for Tony with his hands—large capable human hands that are gentle as they touch him and bring him to Steve’s chest in which Tony buries his face and weeps uncontrollably even though the tentacles are starting to slip away.

“It’s ok now, baby. It’s ok.”

At last, the last few tentacles leave his body but he still can’t stop crying and keep at it until he is exhausted and unable to continue although he still sniffles every now and then between each occasional cough and tremble.

“Bucky didn’t mean to hurt you. He was just glad to see another kid.” Steve coos softly and puts him on a large rock. “He’s gone now.”

Tony removes his face from Steve’s chest to look around for confirmation and gradually calms down.

“Are we good?” Steve smiles warmly, brings Tony’s hand up and licks at the wound on his finger. It stings badly at first but afterwards it feels no more than a constant dull. Since Tony is quite cold suddenly, he slings his free arm around Steve’s neck and tries to get more heat from Steve’s body. Once it proves that there’s no way he can get closer, Tony gives up, rests his tired head on Steve’s shoulder, and silently watches the sun dish meet its orange reflection at the horizon. The last thing he thinks about before falling asleep is that he wants this moment to last forever.


	2. The Arrival of Dr. Samson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm ripping stuff off from Iron Man - Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Mother is sobbing quietly and dabbing her eyes with a tissue. Her mascara is all messed up now.  It’s clearly Tony’s fault judging by the way Howard is looking at him with his face contorted with pure anger.

“Why did you do that, Tony? I only have you.”

“Do what?” Tony croaks. It hurts to speak, his muscles sore all over, his chest tight and his throat raw and dry as if he’s swallowed a big cotton ball. When he moves, his brain seems to rattle inside his skull, twice too heavy for his body. “Where’s Steve?”

“Steve?” Howard asks flatly.

“The Atlantean. The merman… no, not merman. The sea-dweller! I was with him.”

Howard and mother exchange a silent look.

“I want to see him.” Tony pulls himself up and heaves from the vertigo. He has to grab his mother’s hand to remain vertical, the motion sending a sharp pain to his hand, now neatly bandaged. “I want to see Steve,” he repeats.

Mother’s crying is renewed again, which makes everything more confusing and yet Tony wants to beat himself up regardless.

“Mother, I’m sorry,” Tony says, not knowing what he’s apologizing for, wanting to give her a hug but Howard will frown at his display of emotional weakness. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t…” says she and stands up to turn and lean into Howard’s arms. Shortly after, they both leave together without another word and he’s left alone.

“You shouldn’t upset your mother, young Mr. Stark,” a voice on his left chides him and into view comes a man whom Tony recognizes as Dr. Kenneth Myint by his perpetual thick black-rimmed glasses. Dr. Myint is quite fond of Leo but not Tony.  Well, no one likes Tony.

“I didn’t do anything.” Tony shakes his head in denial and flops down on his fluffy pillow and then he regrets it since that mere action is making him dizzy again.  He throws up one hand to touch his heated forehead. “How did I get here? What’s happening to me?”

“The chauffeur found you by the water’s edge,” explains his doctor and pulls out a chair. “You lost a little blood, got a few sticks to show off, some bruises, a fever and a mild hypothermia. If you drink some water and take a nap right now, you’ll feel better in the morning which is… ah… three hours from now. Maybe kids like you don’t need to sleep but old men like me do.”

“Ok,” Tony says, pulls himself up to accept a glass from Dr. Myint and drinks it. Then, he lies down again, closes his eyes and waits for his doctor to leave.

Of course, Tony falls asleep before Dr. Myint does.

*

“You’re not allowed to go outside, young master.” Denis, their chauffeur, puts a restraining arm in front of Tony to stop him from reaching the front door.

“Who are you to say that I’m not allowed to go wherever I want?” Tony asks angrily and pumps his fist at the large man towering over him.

“It’s Mr. Stark’s order.”

Tony frowns at the stern face and the eyes shielded by dark sunglasses, and realizes that it’s not a battle he can fight and win. Sighing, he spins around and starts stomping off, fully aware of Denis trailing right behind him.

For the last two days, Tony has been under house arrest and no one’s explained to him what he’s done to deserve such treatment. He understands that it is somehow related to his meeting with Steve although whenever he brings up the topic, everyone seems to pretend they haven’t heard him.

It’s a little more than annoying.  It’s pissing him off.

“You have an appointment today at one pm.”

“Appointment?” Tony pauses at the reminder, half-way up the stair, about to go sulking in his room and maybe to do some reading. He checks the grand clock on the wall; it’s still an hour too early for his teacher to show up.

“With Dr. Leonard Samson. I believe he’s waiting for you in the study room.”

Tony hasn't heard of that name before.  That must be his new teacher.

“What if I don’t want to see him?”

“I’m afraid it’s a bit too late for that, Tony.”

Tony turns sharply to face the newcomer—undoubtedly Dr. Samson—and immediately notices the long green-dyed hair, strong jaw and impressive figure the neatly-cut suit fails to hide. Tony thinks the man resembles a pro-wrestler more than a doctor.

Seizing up Dr. Samson with critical eyes, Tony wonders if he can choose to refuse the service.

“I’m under the impression that you want to find your friend, ‘Steve’. If you agree to have a talk with me, I’ll ask Mr. Stark for permission to let you go outside.”

/That is quite an incentive./ Tony thinks bitterly, reigning back his pride. Still, he comments as the last token of his struggle, “I already have a doctor.”

“Are you referring to Dr. Myint? He is great at what he does but I’m afraid he can’t help you more than he already did since he’s not a psychiatrist.”

Psychiatrist. Alarm bells go off in his head and suddenly Tony becomes angry. “What’s the meaning of this? I don’t need a shrink!”

“Please, Tony. You don’t want to make a scene where your parents can hear. Shall we go to the study and work it out?”

*

“Please sit down.” Dr Samson indicates the couch opposite him across the coffee table while he himself is sitting cross-legged on another, his glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose and hiding his eyes. Tony is starting to hate glassed people.

“No, I prefer to stand,” says Tony stubbornly.

“Very well.” Dr Samson unlinks his fingers and writes something down in his notebook. “Without your cooperation, I’ll have to do my assessment based on the information I’ve been given.”

“And what’s that?”

“Incipient schizophrenia.”

“What? I’m not crazy!”

“Good! You can begin showing me that you’re not by following some simple instruction.  Sit down.”

It takes Tony a moment to regain his composure. Surely, he’s unhappy about the current situation but he’s smart enough to know he has nothing to gain from rebellion. “Are you going to drug me?”

“Now, why would I do that? We’re going to talk. That’s all.”

Tony’s eyes flicker in distrust. “Did you promise that I can go outside after we talk?”

“I believe I said I would ask your father for permission. The decision will be his but I have full confidence that he’ll accept my recommendation. Is that good enough for you? Or do you want some chocolate to go with that?”

“I don’t want your chocolate.” Tony huffs to indicate how very unwilling he is but he shuffles to the leather couch, hops up, scoots a little backward and assumes what he believes is a relaxing posture.

“Now, let’s start again. How are you doing today?”

“Good,” Tony says curtly.

“You’re not interested in pleasantries, are you? Very well, why don’t you start telling me what happened on Friday, May 4?”

“My dog was put down.” Tony hasn’t thought about it for a while and the memory seems so distant now that it doesn’t make such an impact on him anymore. “He has the same name as you, Leo.”

“And that’s a very nice name.” Unfazed, Dr Samson nods to himself, his pencil moving on the paper. “Tell me more about that.”

“Howard told me to get over it so I did.”

“Why do you call your father ‘Howard’?”

“It’s his name, isn’t it? How long do we have to talk?” Tony asks, irritated and feeling childish.

“As long as it needs to be to get the complete picture.” Dr Samson’s eyes glint behind the glasses as he instructs Tony. “Try to repeat your earlier sentence and replace ‘Howard’ with ‘my father’.”

Tony stares. “Why do I have to do that?”

“Just humor me, please.”

Biting his bottom lip, Tony swallows uncomfortably and avoids the eyes and eventually says, “I… I don’t remember what I said before.”

It takes his psychiatrist a moment to respond. “That’s perfectly fine. We can revisit this at another time. Now, let’s move on to another topic. Tell me about the wound on your hand.”

“I cut myself,” Tony answers and a second later, belatedly realizes how it may be misunderstood. “Accidentally!”

“I need you to be more specific. Am I correct to assume that it happened after and not before Leo’s death? And under which circumstance did it happen?”

“After I got back from the vet, I went to my room to work on my circuit board. Then, I accidentally hurt myself.”

Dr Samson raises an eyebrow when Tony stops. “Well, it was a wire cutter. I had to do a lot of wiring.” Tony glances down at his hand and scratches the edge of the bandage to avoid the scrutinizing gaze.

“And why did you not seek medical assistance?”

“It was nothing. It wasn’t serious.”

“Mmhmm, how did that lead to you being unconscious at the bottom of the cliff?”

Tony shrugs. “That’s untrue. I was sleeping. After I went swimming, I did some sunbathing and fell asleep.”

“Your clothes and a bloody towel were found on a ledge...”

“So I did some diving too. People do it on TV all the time!” Tony interrupts forcefully.

“Of course, they do. Do you know how tall that ledge is?”

“Are you testing me?”

“Just answer the question, Tony.” Dr Samson drums his fingers on the cushion, his expression unreadable. Tony is unsure where they’re heading with these questions.

“82.61 feet roughly estimated.”

“That’s very accurate. Other than good calculation skills, do you have a good memory too?”

“Naturally.”

“But you don’t remember how you got back home from your swimming?”

A moment of awkward silence passes.

“From Dr. Myint, I understand that you acquired a lot of bruises and displayed symptoms of near-drowning.”

Tony’s lips press together to not say anything that he’ll regret. His first lie was inevitable since he couldn’t say he cut his hand from cleaning up a broken beer bottle Howard had tossed at him. It, however, began the chain of lies and Tony couldn’t stop. The topic they’re approaching is verging on the uncomfortable territory and his psychiatrist is not done with it yet. “Can you tell me what happened after you took the leap?”

Tony flinches, his face turning pale at the words.

“It’s ok, Tony.” Dr. Simon leans forward, his voice suddenly grows gentle—something Tony has believed he isn’t capable of. “I want to help you so you have to be honest with me. What else is there to the story? Just tell me what you remember.”

“I…” Shutting his eyes, Tony tries to block it out but he’s reliving the memory.

“No more lies.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. I’m your friend. You can tell me anything.”

“It… It was Bucky’s idea, not mine. Bucky promised to take me away… asked me to jump. He wasn’t nice. Hurting me… holding me under the water with his tentacles. There were too many of them… I… I couldn’t breathe… or escape. I tried to fight him. God, I tried… I thought I was going…”

“That’s enough.”

Tony startles at being touched, wakened from the retreat inside his mind and realizes he’s curled up into a ball in the chair. “I… Where?” he mutters, disorientated. A moment earlier, he was being drowned but now he’s sitting on a couch and there’s a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re safe now,” says the older man, bends down and scoops Tony into his arms easily. By the time Tony realizes he’s being treated like a kid, he’s been placed on his bed and his shoes are being removed.

Tony blinks, sighing, suddenly too tired to be embarrassed about it, the heaviness of the blanket on him strangely comfortable. “I have class.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“I want to go out. You promised.” Tony clutches his psychiatrist’s sleeve to emphasize his point.

“I’ll ask Mr. Stark. Just take a nap for now.”

Dr. Simon lingers a little longer by his bed for a short while. On the way out, he picks up a book from the floor and puts it on the nightstand. Tony notices that he also tries to lock the door without success before he leaves.

*

On the next day, Tony’s situation improves tremendously: his room has a new functional clock and he can go outside.

At the moment, he’s sitting and swinging his legs on a plastic chair with a book in his lap. The ledge’s edge is about ten steps away and Denis is standing right behind him, the only annoyance Tony has beside the fact that Steve doesn’t come.

On Wednesday, Tony waits for Steve while reading another book.

On Thursday, he has another appointment with Dr. Simon who looks a little less composed, his hair loose from the ponytail, a few strands showing off the surprisingly natural looking color.

“How are you doing today, Tony?” Dr. Simon asks, tucking his stray hair behind an ear.

“Good.”

Tony has had two days to ponder and decide that Dr. Simon isn’t a bad man despite all the prying and his piercing eyes that read through Tony like an open book. Earlier, Tony has practiced in front of the mirror to prepare for their section and yet seeing Dr. Simon is making Tony a little uneasy.

“I hope you’ve been enjoying the outdoor trips.” When Tony doesn’t respond, Dr. Simon continues, “Usually, people say ‘thank you’ when they receive a favor.”

“Thanks.” Tony licks his lips, embarrassed.

“No problem. I went to the ledge today too for a change of air but I didn’t get to see your friend. Have you seen Bucky?”

Tony shakes his head while maintaining the eye contact. Dr. Samson is observing him carefully as he speaks. “Help me to understand here, Tony. From our last conversation, I’m under the impression that Bucky is not nice but you still want to see him?”

“No, of course not,” Tony disagrees. “I want to see Steve, not Bucky.”

“So there are two of them?” Dr. Samson’s voice is filled with delight as he starts taking more notes. Tony notices that he’s on page four now and what’s there to write so much about him?

“Please describe Steve for me. How does he look like and what did he do and or say to you?”

“He…” Tony frowns as he tries to recall how Steve looks, a difficult task since he couldn’t see Steve clearly on the ledge and then, afterward, he was too busy crying. “He has golden hair and… blue eyes, I think. He’s very big and strong but nice and gentle. He saved me when Bucky tried to… um, what I’m saying is that Steve didn’t hurt me.”

“Sounds like he’s a really nice individual. Did this ‘Steve’ talk to you?”

“He told me not to jump.”

“But you didn’t listen to him.”

Tony nods.

“Ok, I want you to go back to your earlier statement. You said Bucky tried to do what, Tony?”

“You know what I mean!” Each word is gritted out through clenched teeth.

Dr. Samson fixes him a stern look. “I need you to say it.”

“He… he tried to… drown me! He tried to kill me!” Tony glares at his psychiatrist at the end of his sentence and starts panting a little as his heart clenches and his stomach flipflops about in his belly. Instead of having another panic attack episode and memory lapse, however, he’s in perfect control of himself and everything doesn’t seem too bad now that he’s saying it. He’s fine, perfectly fine.

“Yes, you’re doing very well. Good boy,” Dr. Samson says in approval and Tony finds himself flushing a little.

“Let’s stop here today unless you have any question. Our next section will be one week from today.”

“Can you tell Denis not to follow me around?”

Dr. Samson flips his notebook close and puts it in his bag, apparently stalling for time to think. “I can do that. When you go outside, however, you still need adult supervision.”

“I can take care of myself. I’m seven,” Tony argues.

“You’re seven. That’s exactly my point.”


	3. One Step Away from Insanity

It takes Tony two days to figure out how to cut his tail. After his last class ends at three pm, Tony is free to do anything until dinner which isn’t mandatory lately since mother is upset whenever she sees him.

With a screwdriver and a pair of pliers, he manage to pry off the fly screen on his window after a few minutes.  The tricky part is the height from the second stories but once he procures a rope coil in Howard’s storage of junk, it becomes another trivial problem.

The first time Tony sneaks out, guilt eats at his conscience. He keeps seeing Dr. Samson’s displeased expression and remembering the way the man’s looked at him when he praised Tony for being a good boy. However, by the time he’s safely away from the mansion, breathing in fresh air and feeling the breeze on his face, all he can think about is Steve and freedom.

At the ledge’s edge, Tony kneels down, stares down at the blue water surface to search for the place where he’s sat with Steve and watched the sunset, and finds it without any trouble.

Leaning against the cliff, the rock slab is almost artificially looking with its unnatural flat and smooth surface. To reach it, however, Tony has to walk around and climb down a rocky path to the bottom instead of jumping since the ledge appears way taller and scarier than he remembers. The water is quite deep.  Three steps in and it’s a sudden drop in height. Tony is forced to swim a short distance to reach his destination before he’s able to pull his body up the rock with some difficulty since the tides are low at four in the afternoon. Once he lies down to rest, the sky swims into focus, the salty smell and the sound of water lapping gently against the rock filling his other senses as the stillness of the moment embraces him. Soon Tony loses track of time and before he knows it, the sky’s turned dark and a few hours have gone by.

On the subsequent days of the month, Tony sneaks out without anyone noticing his absence. Often, he brings some food, water and books with him inside a lunch box which keeps them dry for the duration of the back and forth swim.

Most of the times, reading is the only thing he does although sometimes, when he looks for too long at the horizon to search for Steve, the glare of the sunset reflecting from the water surface strains his eyes and lures him off to sleep. It’s not the most comfortable place to have a nap but having used to go on for long periods of time with no sleep and resting whenever he’s tired, Tony can fall asleep every now and then with relative ease on the sun-warmed rock, his tiny frame able to turn left and right without even touching the edges.

Once, the play of light and shadow trick him into thinking he catches Steve’s figure among the foams near the distance headland, the illusion skirting the corner of his vision like a wicked joke and eventually invading his dreams. Other times, Tony sees Steve, either half-submerged in water by the rock and reading his book with an arm folded under his chin, or watching and toying with Tony’s hair while murmuring Tony’s name under his breath.

Still, like all other good dreams, they linger and make him smile in his sleep until he wakes up to find himself alone.

*

His appointments with Dr. Samson are always scheduled on Thursday. By now, he’s told Dr. Samson about his meeting with Steve four times and filled out multiple forms with repeated and rephrased questions. To Tony, the drowning accident is fading to become nothing more than a bad memory.  It’s been a little more than a month but being seven years old makes it feel like a long time.

Tony doesn’t necessarily like Dr. Samson any more than he used to although he’s somewhat glad to talk to someone about Steve. The man, however, seems to enjoy catching Tony out of guard when Tony less expects it with uncomfortable questions about Howard and mother. The worse thing is that Dr. Samson can see through every lie and omission Tony concocts and has a way to make Tony talk so Tony always tries to be as objective as possible in front of him.

The string of neither good nor bad days is broken on a sunny Thursday morning. As he bounces up the steps to his room, glad to have no class with his physics teacher being sick, he hears his name spoken in Dr. Samson’s distinct voice coming from Howard’s office.

Curiosity winning any personal debate on the wrongness of his action, Tony treads lightly to the slightly parted door with trepidation souring the insides of his stomach.

Still and quiet, he leans his back against the wall, controlling his breath and listening to the conversation.

“You’ve read my psychiatric diagnosis on Tony Stark.”

“I did but I want you to explain yourself because what you’ve given me here does not describe my son.” Howard’s voice is harsh as usual with its emphasis on superiority inherent to the man’s nature.

“Which part that is not him?” Dr. Samson sounds amused. “His display of a better than average intelligence, the degree of fluency and clarity in his use of language, or his logical and coherent thought pattern?”

“I’m not in the mood for this, Leonard. Just cut to the point.”

Closing his eyes, Tony considers leaving. Maybe he doesn’t want to hear someone analyze his psyche like he’s somehow constructed wrong, a robot with missing circuits crucial to its motor function.

“Oh, you mean his latent self-harm, suicidal tendency and the hallucinations? I must say that I was quite surprised myself to see these symptoms in an otherwise well-behaved and bright child.”

Dr. Samson pauses and there comes the sound of clinking coffee mug on the glass table, the silence pregnant with tension unsettling. Tony feels like he’s hearing about someone else and not him as Dr. Samson resumes talking.

“From what I’ve inferred, Tony doesn’t believe in deliberate self-injury or suicide but he will do it under the pretense of an accident or given the right causes. I interpret ‘Bucky’ as the manifestation of his suicidal distress and ‘Steve’ as his conscious awareness—the instinct to survive if you want to think of it that way. Initially, there was confusion in his memory due to his traumatic stress and emotional instability but since then, he’s reconstructed and inter-weaved the facts with elaborated elements from the books he’s read to fantasize his suicide attempt…”

“Are you suggesting that he tried to kill himself because of a dog?”

“Both yes and no. Tony appeared to have difficulty in coping with interpersonal loss—in this case, his dog Leo—but it wasn’t enough of a motivation for him. I believe that there were other… influential factors that he couldn’t talk about. Family-related factors, Mr. Stark.”

“What are you implying?” The question is snappy and laden with warnings.

“If you want me to say it, yes, I did mean family violence. I respect you as an engineer and entrepreneur but as a father, you’re unqualified! How many drinks did you have on that day? Did you enter his room to yell at him and insult his intelligence? Did you hit him?”

“You have no evidence to accuse me of such thing!”

“God, don’t tell me that you didn’t do any of those! The bruises that he had, not all of them were from the accident. His doctor wouldn’t say a word because you bribed him. I wouldn’t know it either if I wasn’t his drinking buddy. Your son—if you think of him as such—he’s blocked everything completely. With that eidetic memory and imagination of his, he could describe his meeting with Steve and Bucky down to the details but he couldn’t remember a single thing about what you said or did to him.”

“Stop this right at this moment because…”

“Because of what? I’m not Kenneth. I’m not scared of you or your threats! Maybe you are the one who needs to see a psychiatrist, not your son!”

Howard and Dr. Samson start arguing, their voice rising in volume but Tony can no longer make out the jumbled broken sentences for he’s filled with embarrassment and humiliation that threaten to choke him.

What Dr. Samson is saying is horrible and not true, not true at all. Howard didn’t hit him and he didn’t cut himself on purpose or try to commit suicide because which idiot would do that?

Suddenly, the door bangs open and then words wash over him with clarity.

“You’re fired, Leonard! Don’t come back here ever again!” Howard yells from the inside as Tony stares wide-eyed at Dr. Samson, frozen in place.

The moment, however, is brief.  With a hand covering his mouth, Tony turns and starts running but Dr. Samson snatches his hand, picks up him up in that same easy motion and carries him down the two flights of stairs without breaking his strides.

When they’re safely at the bottom, he sets Tony on his feet and kneels down so they’re at eye-level.

“You shouldn’t have eavesdropped, Tony. What if your father catches you?”

“I don’t care,” Tony says, his eyes wet and his voice hoarse and he also wants to vomit. “Take back all that you’ve said! I wasn’t abused. I was careless with a wire cutter. I jumped because I wanted to play with Steve and Bucky. They’re real. I didn’t make any of it up!”

“I’m sorry, Tony.”

“Steve is real,” Tony repeats hotly, fisting a hand in the man’s shirt.

“I’m quite sure that you also believe King Arthur and Santa Claus are real.”

They stare at each other. There’s resignation on Dr. Samson’s face at the way Tony thins his lips so not to take the bait.

“I didn’t mean for you to hear all that.” Sighing, Dr. Samson touches his face gently. “I tried to stay around to help you but now, I can’t anymore because I couldn’t control myself. Maybe you’re right about Steve being real and I’m wrong but the one thing I know is that you need to give up on Steve whether he’s real or not. He's dangerous for you.  Have you read the Little Mermaid? The classic tale by Hans Christian Andersen, not the Disney movie?”

When Tony doesn’t respond, he explains further. “It’s a poetic fairy tale about a beautiful mermaid and her doomed love for a human prince. Disney rewrote the ending for children but in the original storyline, the prince chooses to wed another of his kind and not the little mermaid.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“You remind of one of the characters, Tony.” Dr. Samson uncurls Tony’s fingers in his shirt to put a business card in his hand instead. “And I’m afraid that it’s not the prince that you remind me of.”

The last thing he says to Tony is: “Call me when you need to talk”.

Tony lets the garbage bin have the business card before the man walks out of the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Leonard Samson is a character from the Incredible Hulk. He made a guess appearance in Iron Man vol. 4 #23 to make give Tony a psychological evaluation when Tony started seeing hallucinations of the dead people. Anyway, Tony was a big fan of Arthurian legends and had an opportunity to see Arthur when he went back to the past. I also believe he was a Santa Claus believer because in one of the fun Christmas comics, he had robot reindeers. *laugh*


	4. The Reunion

In his few years of existence—as brief as they were—Tony has not learned how to give up on his hopes and dreams due to the resolve and inner strength embodied in his tiny frame. With introspection, he’s gone over the latest events of the last month several times and admitted bitterly to himself that Dr. Samson might have a point about his memory problem. Due to good intentions or not, the older man still wittingly trampled on his dream in multiple ways and probably thought of him as nothing but another nuts case.

Why does he have to remember bad experiences and dwell on the past? They’re unimportant. They do not enrich his life or contribute anything to his happiness. It is all about tomorrow and the days after tomorrow he is looking forward to. Quite a positive attitude, isn’t it? He wants Steve because Steve equates comfort. What if Steve and Bucky are merely figments of his imagination and sub-consciousness and what he’s doing is to chase after a shadow to fuel some constructed fantasy? As long as he believes they are real, does it even matter? Would that make him crazy? Is he crazy?

At seven years old, Tony shouldn’t feel old, sad and tired as is.

Currently, he's on his favorite rock and finding that flipping through his colorful Little Mermaid picture book can't cheer himself up after having read the tragic version written by Andersen.  He stashes it safely away in his lunch box so that it won't get wet, draws his knees to his chest and wraps his arms wrapped around them in a self-hug while staring unseeingly at the endless expansion in front of him, withdrawn into himself. As minutes go by, he grows colder and lonelier, the stillness enclosing around him like a tight fist to wrench that little breathing he can manage through his tiny lungs. So far, he’s allowed no disappointment to touch him despite the endless days of waiting by suppressing it with dogged persistence and determination but he's failing at the moment.

The vague outlines of Steve’s face, the faint traces of warmth from another body and the murmurs of his name—those were the things that have kept him going but he doesn’t know if he can do it anymore.

Cupping his hands around his mouth to form a makeshift speaker, he starts calling out for Steve over and over only to receive the echoes of his own voice and the crashing ocean waves like a mockery of his naivety and trusting nature.

With his mood plummeting into another abyss of despair, Tony almost bursts out crying. In the end, after another few minutes of staring so hard at the horizon for Steve that his eyes get all scratchy and wet, Tony decides to leave.

It’s not until he’s swinging from the rope like a monkey to climb his way up to the window that he remembers his forgotten lunch box.

The return trip appears to be a lot more arduous than usual and he slips at least twice while trying to go down the slope.

He must be very tired and sleepy because he’s dreaming again and seeing things, more specifically, he’s seeing Bucky swimming to the rock and leaving a long path of disturbed water behind. That chestnut-colored head is as round as he remembers as it moves up and down with each ripple and wave.

Speechlessly, Tony stares at Bucky as the latter pokes at his red and gold lunch box with a finger. That daring action snaps Tony out of his trance and spurs him into taking hold of a small stone within reach and hurling it at Bucky while hollering, “Thief!”

Bucky feigns an ‘ouch’ and spares Tony a glance when the stone breaks the calm surface and lands a good arm length away from him. Unconcerned still, Bucky grins and continues to tamper with Tony’s belonging. There’s a simple combination lock on it built out of some resistors, a PCB, a 5V battery and a few push buttons but it’s in a little plastic case so flimsy that Bucky can rip off without any trouble.

Tony looks down, estimates that he needs at least three minutes to get to the bottom and a minute of short swim, plenty of time for Bucky to figure out Tony’s lame trick and take off with Tony’s stuff. Before his mind can make an informed decision, his legs already backtrack and bring him to the observation ledge and he dives down with no more than a simple thought than ‘I can’t let him get away.’

The foolhardiness of his action doesn’t register until he sinks underwater a few feet and faces with the full memory of his drowning accident. This time, it feels almost worse than the first because he’s still wearing his shoes which weigh him down and the clothes—some oversized flowery printed shirt and shorts that only stay around his waist by means of a drawstring—restrict a lot of his movement. Kicking as hard as he can and losing one of his shoes in the process, Tony swims up and up until his head surges above the water to take in mouthfuls of sweet air. The whole struggle exhausts him so much that by the time he climbs up the rock, he cannot talk and can only wheeze and pant heavily where he kneels on all four with his clothes sticking to his body uncomfortably like a second skin.

“Are you ok?” Tony hears Bucky asks, concern coloring his voice but Tony is too busy with regaining his breath and calming down his traitorous heart to give a scathing reply.

A moment after the question, Tony feels something tickling his bare feet. He tilts his head back to find the offensive object being a tentacle, suddenly panics once more, rolls over to get away and nearly falls off the rock.

Jesus! He stares at the slimy wriggling thing until it withdraws and seems to disappear without a trace.  His eyes grew huge as he freaked out.

“You—you dumbass,” Tony curses, uncaring that it would mortify his mother to hear the word from his mouth.

“What?” Bucky asks rhetorically. “Can’t take a joke?”

After not receiving any answer from Tony, he starts swimming away with a flutter of his hand.

Tony finds himself yelling suddenly, not sure where he’s found the courage to overcome his fear. “Where are you going?”

“Bucky,” Tony cries when that stupid head gets lost under but a moment later, it comes back up. Bucky swims close again and flops Tony’s lost shoe onto the rock where it lands sideway and spills water within its cavity.

“No saying ‘thank you’ for retrieving your lost footwear?”

People have been reminding him of his etiquette lately, Tony thinks.  He knows he really should thank Bucky because it’s a polite thing to do but he doesn’t want to because he doesn’t like Bucky.

Tony bits his lower lip in defiance against what he’s been taught to do out of juvenile petulance and childish spite.

So that he doesn’t have to deal with Bucky’s expectation of a gratitude, Tony removes his other shoe—now sopping wet and uncomfortable—and arranges both of them upside down to be dried.

“I didn’t put you as the ungrateful kind,” Bucky says a moment later. As Tony looks at Bucky, he sees a stupid toothy grin on an equally stupid face with a clump of wavy hair on top.  Bucky doesn’t look all that scary with his smile and his underdeveloped body visible above the water’s line. Yeah, Steve was right. Bucky is a kid but they’re not the same size. Tony guesses his age to be around thirteen— or fifteen max if Bucky is a runt.

“Where’s Steve?” Tony asks once he’s done analyzing Bucky.

“He’s busy. Sent me here to watch over you so you don’t drown like last time.”

“Me? I can swim.”

“That’s not what I remember.”

“I can swim,” Tony repeats and continues with an accusation. “You’re the one who tried to drown me!”

“I saved your life, idiot.”

“It’s not true.”

“Is so.”

“Is not!”

“Ok, have it your way.” Bucky throws his hands in the air, conceding. “How did I know that you couldn’t stay under the water for less than a hundred counts? But I still saved your life, idiot.”

Miffed, Tony glares at him.  He’s supposed to be a genius. “You’re the idiot, not me.”

Instead of insulting Tony back, Bucky starts snickering as if being called an ‘idiot’ amuses him.

“Why is Steve avoiding me?”

“He is, isn’t he?” Bucky is switching his attention to Tony’s lunch box and looking five seconds away from seizing it. “Maybe because he’s afraid you’re going to cry again.”

“You’re the worst, Bucky!” Tony says tartly. “The worst!”

Again, Bucky is not trying to defend himself, only concerning with Tony’s belonging. “What have you got in the box?”

“Books.”

“Books don’t smell good.” Bucky licks his lips and swallows audibly.

“You don’t eat books. I think you meant my lunch… brunch or whatever.”

No matter how much Tony’s annoyed at the moment, he can’t help himself from opening his lunch box to give Bucky the flapjacks coated in butter and laid in a neat zip bag.

The way Bucky inhales the quickbread and licks every crumb and midget blueberry, he looks like a normal kid being given a treat—quite a deceptive idea considering what he is.

And Tony still doesn’t know what he is.

On an impulsive thought, Tony takes his picture book out, turns a few pages and shows it to Bucky, his fingers running from the dog-eared corner to the image of the Sea Witch, some exaggerated rendition of a half-human half-octopus with placid blue skin, a thickset torso, baggy neck and long face covered by a cake of makeup. “This is you!”

Bucky rolls his eyes around a mouthful of food, his words almost ineligible. “And you think Steve doesn’t look like that?”

“Oh,” Tony gasps, suddenly surprised. He doesn’t why it’s never crossed his mind that Steve also has those scary tentacles, part of his mind probably having denied that logical possibility because Steve isn’t the same kind as mean Bucky.

“And what made you think it was all me who kept you under the water?”

“Don’t lie!” Tony protests with confidence. “He’s unlike you.”

“You don’t want to hear the truth, do you? You’re the strange looking one, not us. Are those props called legs, seriously? And you only have two of them. What other function can they do other than transportation? And do you really call those two paddles at the end ‘feet’?”

“Um…” Tony looks down at his stick-like legs and gathers them close. He doesn’t think they’re strange but Steve doesn’t have legs. “Does Steve think I’m… strange looking too?”

“Probably. You’re a very strange looking pet.” Bucky grins and waves the empty plastic bag at him, having completely consumed Tony’s lunch. “What do you call these?”

“I’m not a pet. Why do you say that?” Tony shakes his fist, angry. “If I’m a pet, you’re a sidekick. A very bad sidekick! Tell Steve to come by himself instead of sending the sidekick.”

“Is that what you think of me?” Bucky hisses and tosses the bag at him, clearly peeved.

And then, Tony sees the tentacles, just two of them worming their way by his feet and his heart speeds up by a mile an hour or so it seems.  All he can do is to cringe and pull his legs even closer to his chest.

That move, evidently, is another bad joke because the tentacles slip away before touching him.

“Kids are insufferable.” Bucky makes a face, shrugs his shoulder theatrically, and dives under.

“You’re a kid too,” Tony yells after Bucky once he recovers.

*

For the whole night, Tony’s been wringing his hands and turning around in his bed, unable to sleep because he doesn’t know if he’s angered Bucky into badmouthing him to Steve and making Steve hate him. Morning finds him with his eyes red after having wept into his pillow at the possibility of not seeing Steve again.

In his red pajama with little yellow printed squares, he stumbles into the kitchen for some chocolate milk and nearly walks into Jarvis, their new butler.

“Master Tony, did you enjoy the pancakes?”

Tony cranks his head up to peer at him, wondering. Why is everyone so tall?

“Yeah, they’re most excellent, Jarvis.” Tony lies and lowers his eyes guiltily. “Actually, I don’t know but I think they’re very good.” His stomach chooses that moment to grumble loudly in reminder that he hasn’t eaten for over twenty four hours.

“No problem. Sit down and enjoy your breakfast.” Jarvis pulls out a chair for him to climb on, pours him a cup of milk and sets an empty plate in front of him. Then, he picks up a skillet from the stove to transfer an omelet over onto Tony’s plate and heaps on the side with mushrooms, tomatoes and green beans from a second plate.

“Not the beans.” Tony wrinkles his nose and looks hopefully. “Do we have any pancake left?”

“Eat your vegetables, Master Tony,” says Jarvis, pushing a basket of thinly sliced French bread and a small dish of butter over. “It’s my job to make sure that you get some meat on that body of yours.”

Who is the master here, really? Tony grumbles internally and eats hurriedly. Afterward, he washes down the disgusting taste with the milk and runs off before he’s admonished for leaving some of the beans behind.

When his class starts, he discovers that his teacher has also been changed as if Howard fired everyone else with Dr. Samson just to be throughout. Tony isn’t wholly displeased about it if that means Dr. Myint is gone too and Jarvis seems nice even though the old man made him eat vegetables.

*

Friday is also sunny, the heat beating down on Tony’s head and back with a vengeance and the reflection from the water surface so bright that it takes Tony a while to catch the sight of Steve. Tony doesn’t know how long Steve has been waiting for him, doesn’t know or care whether Steve has tentacles or that Bucky’s accusation of Steve is true. He yanks his top over his head with one hand and nearly pulls on his hair in the process, strips down to his swim trunks and hastily breaststrokes to him.

Standing there, Steve watches him curiously and meanders over shyly as Tony approaches, breathless, dripping wet, shaking and incapable of finding his voice.

“Hey,” Steve greets once Tony stops in front of him, merely inches away. When Tony doesn’t reply, he adds. “Are you angry at me?”

At that moment, something breaks open and it is the void, the emptiness that has been growing like a bubble inside his heart that is flushed with emotions so strong to the point where Tony is  bodily shaking.

At last, Tony throws his arms around Steve’s neck, wraps his legs around Steve’s torso and clings onto him. “Steve, God, Steve. Are you really here? Are you real? They told me that I’m crazy for imaging you, for thinking about you, for seeing you. Don’t—please don’t leave again. I’m dreaming, am I not? I don’t want to wake up anymore. Not if that means you won’t be here—”

Then, he rambles on and on and apologizes for scaring Steve off and apologizes some more and promises not to cry again and after a while, his throat is patched and he feels spent from talking too much and he wants to cry again despite having promised not to.

Tony doesn’t know whether he’s really making any sense with his babbling. The important thing right now is Steve who is real and solid with his hands stroking Tony’s face and rubbing Tony’s back, all the stupid things with Dr. Samson and Bucky altogether meaningless in the moment.

He misses Steve. He misses Steve so much. It feels like he’s known Steve for a lifetime and waited for Steve for just as long.

After a while though, Tony realizes that Steve somehow has subtly moved them both to the rock without his knowing and he’s being laid down on it, a sense of déjà vu skirting at the corner of his mind and his eyelids suddenly drooping as if he’s about to fall asleep.

The idea makes him struggle to sit up but Steve’s hand on his stomach pins him down. “Shhh, just go to sleep,” Steve says.

“No, I don’t want to take a nap. Because you’re going to leave when I fall asleep.”

“No, I won’t. Not this time,” Steve promises and rests a hand on Tony’s head.

“How do you do that?” Tony mumbles and leans further into the touch, his eyes closing by themselves despite his determination to stay awake.  It must be Steve's doing, Tony thinks.

“Do what?”

“Make me fall asleep.”

Steve’s laugh is light with just a tint of embarrassment. “Oh, most of it is me but you help some too…” Steve’s voice trails off at the end and fades into the sound of the waves. Before Tony loses himself to sleep, he remembers a Greek myth of sirens who lull sailors to sleep and climb on board to kill them.

*

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Tony answers between a yawn, throws his arms up and stretches luxuriously like a cat. He feels as if he hasn’t got any good sleep since forever. When he opens his eyes, he sees Steve lying next to him with his head propped on one arm.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Um, yeah. Did you take a nap too?”

“No, I was reading.” Steve waves a book in front of his face and Tony realizes that it’s his book—the new history textbook he’s required to read because his teacher is a mean old man.

“It’s mine!”

When Tony tries to snatch it back without moving from his horizontal position, however, Steve merely lifts it higher so that Tony is batting his hands about an inch away from it futilely. After another minute of it, he realizes that as long as he’s still lying down, he’s not going to get his book back and gives up.  It is only at the indication of Tony’s surrender that Steve drops his arm, places the book down next to Tony’s head with a laugh and somehow manages to bracket Tony with his body in the process.

“You can read English?”

“Yes. Also French and German. Need to know what the air-breathing humans plan for us.” Then Steve goes very quiet and suddenly, Tony comes to a horrible sinking realization.

“You don’t like humans.” It’s a statement, not an opinion.

“I like you.”

Tony blinks twice and stares up at Steve, just aware that Steve is playing with his hair, twirling a finger around a long strand by Tony’s ear over and over. No one has ever liked him before.

“Do you?” he asks and sucks in a shaky breath. “What do you like about me?”

Steve looks thoughtful for a few seconds. “You have a beautiful face but I like your eyes the best. I like the way you look at me like I’m the only thing that matters to you.”

“You are,” Tony confirms, reaches up to take Steve’s hand in his and finds that Steve's hand is so big that he can only hold three of Steve’s fingers.  It's a nice capable hand though.  Tony also like Steve’s eyes, the blue of them paler in the sun although no less bright or soft as they gaze at him. Steve has a strong face with a very straight nose and a square jaw. What Tony likes the most about Steve is, however, not his face but how Steve projects himself with confidence, reliability, and trustfulness.  There appears to be not a drop of deception or callousness in him. Steve looks like someone who will stand by his principles and protect what he believes in regardless of the corruption in the world. Tony feels small around him, somewhat clumsy and useless, but they only make him want to get closer to Steve.

“Do you think I’m strange-looking?” Tony asks after having engraved Steve’s face in his memory.

“A little,” Steve admits and trails his eyes from Tony’s face down the length of his body and Steve looks like… Steve looks like he’s about to touch Tony’s leg—one of the skinny ugly props he possesses that can do nothing but walk.

Tony jerks out of Steve’s grasp and falls into the water below on his back with an undignified thump that splatters water all over.

When he can poke his nose in the air, Steve is by his side with a hand around his arm and Tony is flushing so hard that his face burns painfully.

“Don’t touch,” Tony says each word between every hard breath with his free arm swatting from side to side and his legs kicking up and down to stay afloat, and soon notices that while it takes him constant movement to keep his head above water, Steve isn’t moving his arms as if he’s simply... standing there. It’s a bit funny actually.

At least, Steve is not making fun of him like Bucky did. Sighing internally, Tony remembers something else Bucky’s mentioned and asks. “Do you have pets?”

“We do actually.”

“Like what? Crabs? Jellyfish? Sea otters? Seals?”

Steve laughs. “Jellyfish, yes.”

“What else? What else?” Tony asks excitedly.

“Squids, turtles and whales.”

“Whales!”

“Yeah, we ride them. Also sharks.”

“Steve, don’t joke. That is a serious question.”

In response, Steve laughs, treads backward and pulls lightly on Tony’s arm.  “Do want to go for a swim?”


	5. I Belong to You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You should go back to read the header to make a more informed decision on whether you want to skip this chapter. Also, while I do not intend it to be dub-con, you may read it as such at a certain part. I don't think it's that serious since the rating is not explicit.
> 
> The chapter title is from a song by Lenny Kravitz. You should check it out on youtube since I started this while listening to the song (and strayed to nowhere land afterward).

Howard and Maria do love Tony although they are still quite young, unprepared to become parents, not knowing how to raise a child, especially one so sensitive and attention-starved with an odd temperament, peculiar interests and intelligence. They have understandably avoided him for some time, Howard due to the realization of his negative influence on Tony and Maria because of the shock of child suicide.  They have talked to him again while being mindful of his emotions and thoughts. Despite being quite an awful father, Howard is a decent husband who dearly loves and respects his wife enough to accede to her wish to give Tony time and space to heal.

Tony is not a shy child. That still doesn’t mean he is the trusting wide-eyed type, capable of bonding with a stranger so quickly. At first, even if he doesn’t know it, his initial fondness towards Steve is more or less the same feeling he has toward Leo, his late dog, but as time goes by, Tony grows closer and more attached Steve who is not hesitant to show his affection toward such a helpless child.

With Steve having adult responsibilities to attend to, they don’t meet everyday but when they meet, they make the best out of their time. Tony still reads voraciously, going through Howard’s personal library, now with Steve joining him in pleasant company. He also enjoys swimming, diving, frolicking and rolling in the heavy surf with Steve who every now and then will take Tony further offshore where they can lie on their backs to feel water slap against their bodies and soak up the sunlight. Sometimes, they play hide and seek or tag, the odds clearly not in Tony’s favor since Tony can’t hold his breath for too long underwater and Steve can swim extremely fast, but Tony likes it. He likes being caught and held in Steve’s strong arms and the full laughs that come out of Steve.

Just a mile from the mansion, they discover is a narrow crescent strip of sand, tucked neatly between rocky outcrops, where Tony saves starfishes and tramples about barefoot on the soft sand to collect seashells before the sea washes up at his feet to erase his footprints and reclaim its treasures. Steve doesn’t go on land, more content to stay off the foreshore among the ripples and waves to observe Tony until Tony comes up to hug him.

Tony doesn’t have much to talk about himself to Steve, just nonsensical things about Leo and Jarvis and the robots he’s building, and passing mentions of Dr. Samson, Howard and mother. Comparing to the stories of his life, Steve’s appear to be a lot richer, more colorful, and fascinating, especially when being recounted by Steve’s warm voice that can turn soft and melancholy at times.

Tony learns that Steve is some sort of captain leading a team called the Invaders, that Bucky is very proficient at close combat and is a member of Steve’s team, that his people used to live in the ancient city of Atlantis in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean before it fell into ruin, and that Prince Namor—the only one who can stay on dry land for more than a few hours, and walk and fly by the use of his winged legs—has been missing for some time.

While Steve tends to omit the specifics when it comes to his life and Tony knows not to ask, he can talk for a long time about various sea creatures and introduce Tony to some of them.

The whale is Tony’s favorite. Her size is about the same as a small fusion reactor and she makes really funny noises and spouts water on the top of her head. At Steve’s request, she lets Tony cruise around on her back but occasionally, she slaps water with her mighty tail and splashes Tony with gallons of water.

The turtle is another giant, quite lazy despite being able to swim almost as fast as the whale. One of Tony’s favorite things to do is to sit on his shell and let him go wherever he likes, but more often than not, he spins in circles until Tony giggles from dizziness and topples over.

The squid is smaller and not particularly friendly. At the sight of Tony, he shoots some kind of membranous sack to encase Tony and Steve has to tear it off to save Tony from the prison. According to Steve, the jellyfish are too dangerous for Tony and so are the sharks and his other pets that Steve can’t name because there are no equivalent graceful ways to call them in Standard English.

All in all, Tony quite likes the idea that Steve has the equivalence of an open aquarium and works as an animal caretaker and trainer.

By the end of summer, Tony is brown like a nut and it’s a miracle that his nose doesn’t perpetually peel from the sun. Autumn is quite lovely and novel with the mild weather but quite short, mostly because of the early winter rains signaling the transition and temperature change.

Personally, Tony doesn’t like rainy days and prefers to stay indoor to avoid the sticky discomfort of wet clothing and the cold misery that comes with it. Steve, on the other hand, has an opposite viewpoint, and Tony shakes his dislike to hang out with him.

That is until the thunderstorm comes.

Lightning bolts have split the sky open and from within, bone-freezing water pours down in a smarting torrent and covers everything under a curtain of rain. From above the slope, a small current floods down the path in a hurry to rush by Tony’s knees to the bottom as Tony scrambles down, hand holding a little umbrella that whips back and forth from the wind. He’s soaking wet and shivering, appearing to be on the verge of being blown into the seething sea below at any moment.

Nervous and unsteady on his feet, Tony stares at the scourging water, unable to locate his favorite rock under several feet of water or anything other than the surges crashing violently against the cliff. Every time thunder blooms above, he finds himself flinching and covering his ears to block out the sounds.

Steve is waiting for him below, a fading figure that rises and falls with the waves. His voice is strong as he shouts from underneath. “Maybe you should go back.”

Tony wipes his soaked face with his palm and does it again when a blast of rain strikes him squarely on the front.

“I don’t want to go back,” Tony shouts back but a loud boom of thunder drowns out his voice. “I want to come with you.”

It takes Steve a few seconds to answer. “Only if you’re brave.”

Tony knows the storm is genuinely fun to Steve and here is an issue of trust in Steve who is trying to help him with his anxiety. While he’s not scared of height or free-falling, the bad memory associating with the whole thing still hasn’t faded but that’s the only way to get to Steve since it’s impossible to swim against the waves.

The first two times Tony did cliff-diving, he was unaware of his action but not this time, a strange rush running through his limbs as he propels his body forward and dives headlong. Just as he’s about to touch down, Steve grabs him in the air and they both sink under briefly before they surface, Steve keeping one hand on Tony’s back to keep him elevated.

“How are you doing today?” Steve smiles at him shortly before a wave goes over their heads and then laughs and turns them around until he can cover Tony with his large body from the worst.

“Good, how are you?” Tony tries to laugh too but he’s out of breath and dizzy.

They swim offshore for an indeterminate period of time, mostly Steve’s doing, since Tony can only focus on breathing in between and not taking any mouthful of salt water.

“Hold your breath now,” Steve says and wraps his arms around Tony’s tiny body. Tony has only a moment to inhale before another wave comes and all sounds dissolve into a buzz that grows fainter over time as they both go under. Down they dive deeper and deeper until it’s too dark for Tony to discern anything, the only comfort being Steve’s solid body against his and Steve’s large hand on his waist. It’s perhaps a little more than a minute of swimming in the dark before they come to rest at some sort of structure and float through the opening to the light.

And then suddenly Tony can breathe freely again and once his eyes adjust, he realizes that they’re inside a giant seashell and he’s been deposited him onto some sort of crude reef bed on the upper curve.

“Is this your house?” Tony surveys his surrounding after piling his head on Steve’s shoulder to make himself more comfortable.

“No, it’s too tiny and warm. This is a playhouse for children.  Usually there are also windows and it doesn’t have air,” Steve answers and gestures with one hand to indicate where the windows are supposed to be at. “I put it here for you.”

It is actually not that tiny. There’s enough room for two of them either to sit or lie comfortably with extra space on the side, currently occupied by some sort of green leaves. The source of the light is from an energy source inside a round shell and its shimmering reflection in the salt-rimmed water pool at the entrance.

If other kids have a tree house, Tony has a seashell house, one with provisions because the seaweed is food, evidently proven when Steve offers Tony some of it to chew on.

Sullenly, Tony shakes his head and rubs his face against Steve’s skin. “Um, no. It’s veggie.”

“Tony, it’s really good. Try some.” Steve starts consoling and coaxing Tony by stroking his back. “You need to eat. You’re so skinny.”

“Nooo, I’m not hungry,” Tony says but he’s, in fact, quite hungry and fatigued from the journey.

“Just a little?”

When Tony doesn’t make any attempt to try the food, Steve tears off a blade and starts eating it himself. Somehow seeing Steve eats the salad makes it appear edible to Tony and at the second offer, Tony takes a little in his mouth. It tastes somewhat salty and crunchy, not entirely unpleasant and since Steve looks so amused, he lets Steve feed him some more.

Afterwards, having eaten, they cuddle together in comfort and safety, listening to the distant sounds of rolling waves and crackling thunder.

“Sleepy, sleepyhead?” Steve gives him a hugging shake when he closes his eyes.

Purring contently, Tony snuggles even closer to Steve’s warmth. “Are you making me drowsy?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Rubbing my back. Making me soooo comfortable.”

Tony can feel Steve smile into his hair and the petting doesn’t stop.

“Mmm, what is this?” Tony asks after some time, flicking idly at a pendant Steve is wearing so not to fall asleep. He hasn’t been paying attention to it because it’s quite unremarkable, a small disc painted in three colors with an adorning white star in the middle.

“This is from our ancient city. A stone that carries my symbol to be given for the one I like best.”

Blinking sleepiness from his eyes, Tony runs a finger over the stone’s smooth front and closes his hand around it wonderingly. Steve has said that he likes Tony but why hasn’t he given Tony the stone? Is there someone else Steve prefers? He doesn’t know why the idea that Steve may like someone more than him distresses him.

Still half-sprawled on top of Steve’s body, Tony looks up at Steve and catches Steve’s gaze. The beg is on his lips, threatening to spill and yet he’s unable to say them in fear of rejection. While Tony knows for sure that he likes Steve best, the opposite doesn’t seem to be true.

‘I want it. Please, Steve? Please?’ His eyes plead while his bottom lip trembles slightly.

Steve doesn’t acknowledge the request but his hand pushes the messy bang from Tony’s forehead to touch his face softly. Once the agony of the silence becomes too much for his heart, Tony blurts out. “Do you have someone you like best?”

“I’m still wearing the stone, which means I don’t have anyone.”

“Can I have it?”

“You’re still too young,” Steve says firmly with such a finality that makes Tony feel like tearing up, and having remembered that Bucky’s said Steve dislikes seeing him cry, he pushes up and starts crawling away from Steve to the pool to leave.

“Where are you going?” Before Tony can mutter some lame excuse and get in, he’s been snatched up, placed onto the bed again and pinned under Steve who stares down at him disapprovingly. “Don’t be stupid, Tony. You don’t know what you’re asking for. I can’t give you this.”

“Because I’m too young? What has my age got to do with anything? I like you more than anyone else.”

“You can’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“You’re scared of our differences. You don’t even let me touch your legs or look at me for who I am.”

“I’m not scared of you,” Tony denies, now knowing it is entirely his fault. Whirling about inside him are regret and disappointment in himself for still being haunted by the memory involving the tentacles. In spite of it, he’s being honest about feelings to Steve.

No sooner has Tony thought that, he feels a hand on his leg. His first instinct is to roll to one side so that he can hide his legs by gathering them to his body but he can’t move with Steve holding him down. “Steve, don’t touch. They’re ugly.”

“What gave you that impression?” Steve asks alarmingly and tips Tony’s downturn face back, his earlier stern look replaced with concerns. “They’re part of you and you are definitely not ugly.”

Tony searches Steve’s expression and sees no lies or deception. As he thinks about how childish he is to ever doubt Steve’s words, the touch starts again at the sole of Tony’s feet, just two or three fingers gingerly making slow circles on the sensitive skin.

They’re still looking at each other but as fingers curl around the shape of Tony’s feet and a thumb caresses the upper side, Steve breaks the eye contact and glances down. Suppressing an urge to kick or to run away again, Tony determinately focuses on the spiral dorm above and tells himself to cease thinking, insecure in his own skin and worried too much about Steve’s opinions.

But Steve is not saying anything, simply holding Tony’s foot in his palm before tracing the shape of his heel and the arc of his ankle. Then Steve’s hand runs up his calf, over the protruding bone of his knee, and up his thigh before trailing down again to encircle his ankle which Steve uses to move his leg up and down and from side to side. Eventually, after testing the motions of his leg, Steve straightens it and works on the other one.

By the time Steve is done, Tony has two bright red spots on his cheeks, embarrassment rendering him unable to speak.

“I like you a lot but you to grow up faster,” Steve whispers softly as two tentacles come up to remove the string around Steve’s neck.

Surprised, Tony stares at the nimble appendages, both tapered to a blunt point at the end, green and smooth looking except for the seemingly rough underside which has a dark pink color, and lets them slip the necklace over his head.

When they finish and leave, Tony tries to grab one and misses but it comes back to curl around his wrist and bring it up to where Steve can kiss the back of Tony’s hand.

The realization of Steve’s confession, earlier distracted by the tentacles, now sinks it and his heart swells with such an indescribable happiness that causes him to pull himself up and kiss Steve’s nose the way he used to kiss Leo.

“You don’t kiss people you like on the nose,” Steve jokes but his tone carries an underlying seriousness supported by the expectation on his lips.

Tony knows what Steve is talking about, having seen people kissing on TV, and since he does like Steve a lot, it feels like the right thing to do when he tilts his head up and presses their lips together.

It is his first kiss, a light contact of skin on skin that lasts less than five seconds and doesn’t feel like anything. Tony is quite disappointed as they part but then Steve draws Tony to him with an arm around Tony’s back to peck him on the lips and for some reason, that deepens Tony's flush.

Finally, they go back to cuddling after Steve adjusts the string to fit Tony better.

“I’m sorry,” Tony mumbles into the crook of Steve’s neck, “for making you feel alienated.”

“I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable with  my arms. I can’t always concentrate to control what they’re doing.”

“You mean your tentacles?”

“They’re my arms,” Steve clarifies, “but you can call them tentacles if it helps to make differentiation.”

Steve appears not moving but Tony can feel the tentacles hover in the air over his body as if they want to touch him. His skin prickles and he stays still. A few seconds go by and nothing happens. Then Steve sighs and runs a hand up Tony’s side until he can stroke Tony’s head.

*

Fortunately, that is the only storm of the year. When winter replaces autumn, it is still acceptable to swim in the afternoon with a thermal suit although not for too long before Tony grows chilly and they find themselves hiding in the shelter to read and indulge in each other’s comfort.

Another summer comes and goes. Time seems to fly faster every day but Tony welcomes the passing years in exchange for his growing intellect and ability to understand the world and people around him, to read between the lines, and to perceive the intricacies of human emotions and nuances of gestures.

At thirteen, he’s grown like a weed, bouncy and happy like a clam but quite thin with knotty knees and knottier elbows in spite of all the meals Jarvis has tried to get him to eat. Unlike most kids his age who have turned shy against affection, Tony, wholly naïve and untarnished due to not having encountered the pressure and judgment of his peers, thrives more on it.  He loved and enjoyed all the hugging, kissing, and petting.

At this point, he loves Steve the same way any thirteen-year-old knows how to. His love is unsophisticated, innocent, and sweet, a compound of hero worship, devotion, and infatuation that can easily develop into something deeper in time.

Except that time is a luxury he soon no longer has.

Low in the western sky, the vast orange sun still sets everyday, but the perpetual sea is changing, moving, shifting, undulating and whispering in a language that Tony doesn’t understand. Steve tries not to behave any differently or indicate his acknowledgement of the sounds whenever he is around Tony, and yet, now and again, he will tilt his head just a little and start listening when Tony is not looking.

Tony doesn’t want to think about what it might have been or press Steve for information that Steve is unready to divulge. Deep inside, he is afraid that Steve may be leaving him and ignoring the issue is the only way he knows how to handle the situation.

That is until Steve doesn’t show up for two continuous days. It’s rare but it’s happened before but Tony still finds it difficult not to subdue the anxiety.

At night, sleep is lost to him.

On the third day, he waits for Steve at the same place with something like dread churning in the pit of his stomach.

Instead of Steve, Bucky shows up and Tony briefly remembers that bad days are often Thursdays.

It’s been a little over six years since he’s last seen Bucky although their last meeting is still quite fresh like all bad memories usually are. Bucky’s changed. His water-stringy hair has darkened to the color of chocolate, the shape of his face and eyes more defined, and his body no longer quite lanky but he still retains that youthful boundless energy of a teenager. However, the most change about him is the lack of an easy mischievous grin which has marked his adolescence in Tony’s mind.

“What happened? Where’s Steve?” Tony asks at the sight of him, more worried about what news Bucky may bring than the fact that he’s sitting with his legs dangling in the cool water, which inadvertently allows Bucky to move into his personal space.

“Busy.”

“Okay.” Tony sighs in relief and scrubs his face with his palm.

“You still haven’t changed after all these years.” Bucky sounds cross and somewhat unfriendly, which makes Tony frown.

“What do you mean by that? I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Aren’t you?” A smile of mockery displays on Bucky’s lips. “From what I see here, you’re still as immature and insufferable. Can’t go for five seconds without talking about Steve. When was the last time you asked me how I fared?”

“I…” Tony stammers, wracking his brain to find something to say to defend himself.

“But that’s ok. I guess I’ve learned to accept that part about you.”

Before Tony can fully ponder over it, Bucky continues in that same tone, slightly vague with a hint of resentment. “You need to give up on him.”

“And why would I?” Tony retorts defensively.

“Because he’s our captain, the /Captain/, and you’re a mere human,” Bucky states matter-of-factly and fixes his bright eyes on Tony’s face.

‘You don’t deserve him.’ Tony hears even though Bucky does not speak further. Speechless, Tony stares back and shakes his head in order to dismiss the idea that strikes a bit close to home, his fear that one day Steve will find someone else to like more than Tony and finds out that Tony is unlikable and quite worthless.

“You should give this back to him.” Bucky hooks a finger in the chain around Tony’s neck to indicate his meaning. Grabbing the pendant, Tony bats Bucky’s hand away forcefully shortly before he realizes that Bucky hasn’t attempted to take it away from him. Still, that doesn’t stop him from guarding the gift while glaring at Bucky.

“No, I don’t want to,” Tony says, defiant and stubborn.

“Listen. As much as you may want to think badly about me, I’m saying this because I care. Our people are going to war and you’re too much of a distraction to Steve. The best thing that you can do for him is to return the stone to him tomorrow when he shows up to bid his farewell.”

“Which war? I don’t understand.”

“I suppose you would be concerned about your kind but, no. At the moment, we don’t plan to invade and enslave humans in revenge for destroying Atlantis with nuclear bombs.”

At Tony’s sudden gasp of surprise, the corners of Bucky’s mouth turn slightly upward. “He hasn’t told you about this.”

Steve hasn’t. Tony doesn’t know. That does explain Steve’s intense dislike and distrust toward humans and makes Tony wonder what else Steve hasn’t told him.

“I suppose you people are still responsible for this coming war because if you haven’t used our ancient city as your nuclear testing site, our Prince wouldn’t lose his memory and go missing and we wouldn’t be conquered by the Skarka. Not any longer though. We’ve managed to locate Namor and will follow him to reclaim the kingdom.”

Tony lowers his eyes in abject apology, momentarily stunted into silence by the history retold in the indictment. Unless the way Steve feels about him is the way one would to a pet, he can’t see any reason why Steve may like him with what happened to his country.

“Do you understand, Tony?” Bucky flicks water at him as though that will soften his harsh words.

“Is that why you hate me so?”

“Hate you?” Bucky laughs outright. “Because you’re one of them and the first human that I’ve seen? Because every time I see you, all you ask about is Steve? Or is it because you two spent your free time together and left me alone to my own devices for years?” Bucky pauses with the intention of giving Tony time to digest the information. “Sometimes, I think I hate you but the truth is… I don’t. If I did, I wouldn’t have agreed to come and watch over you whenever Steve couldn’t make it. We were in hiding, living like nomads. I was the only kid around and when I met you, I just wanted to know you but you were scared of me. I kept wonder why you accepted Steve but not me. Is it because he’s the Captain?”

“I don’t like him because of his post or position,” Tony says gently, feeling guilty. He cannot imagine how it is like to be alone and to face rejection and neglect again. However, while he may regret not being nicer to Bucky, he doesn’t regret having spent his childhood around Steve and making Steve the center of his universe.

“So is it me then?”

“No, it’s not you,” Tony replies without hesitation. The indignation from Bucky isn’t dissimilar to what Steve has expressed at Tony’s lack of acceptance in the past. He couldn’t explain himself back then and he can’t now, how it’s the suffocation as his body was derived of oxygen, the choking on salt water that simultaneously rushed inside his lungs and swelled up his stomach, and the helplessness in the face of death that he’s scared of. Despite having been instrumental in the accident, Bucky isn't the problem.  Tony is.

An odd expression passes by Bucky’s face, accompanied by swirling water and Tony feels rather than see two tentacles latching around his ankles and creeping up his legs.

When he moves to stop them, he finds that his hands have also been similarly restrained. Stomach twisting into a knot, Tony shuts his eyes and swallows harshly as he recognizes the dark feeling as fear through sulfurous memory vapors. Within seconds, he will be dragged down to relive a childhood nightmare.

“Look at me.” Tony hears Bucky saying. “You’ve said it’s not me you’re scared of.”

Tony opens his eyes. Bucky has situated himself between his legs and instead of being hostile or hateful as Tony expects, he appears hurt, absolutely wrecked.

“This is not supposed to be hurting. You know he wants to do this to you too.”

There are truth and reassurance in his words. Exhaling slowly, Tony forces his body to relax and once he calms down enough, he remembers that the tentacles are Bucky’s arms and they don’t seem to be scary anymore. They feel like some kind of tough skin and the underside is quite soft instead of rough, not unlike finger pads. At the moment, they’re all the way up his thighs, pulsing and caressing his skin and somewhere, Tony is conscious of strange warmth somewhere on the low region of his stomach.

“What… What are you doing?” Tony hates the shakiness of his own voice, how it distorts his question and makes him sound pathetically helpless.

“You’re a grownup. You know what I’m trying to do.”

Bucky lets his gaze drop to follow the lines of Tony’s body, the scrutiny carrying the full discomfort it intends to deliver. Tony’s neck and chest are starting to burn from embarrassment. There is no way Bucky won’t notice the sharp bones of his shoulders and clavicles, the little muscles he has on his upper arms whose effect is diminished by the knots of his elbows, and the soft hollow of his belly which is still a long way away from developing eight pack abs.

After a seemingly endless moment, Bucky moves his gaze up, and he’s giving Tony the same look he used to give those little flapjacks a few years back. Tony’s skin suddenly crawls from the discomfort of being the target of that hunger.

He still cannot move. There is a hand on the small of his back. Steve has touched him there so many times but it’s always been so friendly and never this oddly intimate. Abstractly, Tony understands what Bucky is doing but the concept of it makes it more unsettling and unwelcoming, the question ‘why?’ hanging over his head because he cannot understand the rationale of Bucky’s action, to seek to humiliate him after claiming not to hate Tony.

Bucky’s eyes have grown heavy and soft. When he pushes himself up with hands on the rock by Tony’s thighs, Tony only has enough time to turn away to avoid Bucky’s mouth.

“Stop, I don’t want this,” Tony rasps, his outrage colliding with dismay in a jumble of tangled emotions.

“If you kiss me, I’ll stop. You’ve done this before.”

It’s a promise that Tony has no reason to doubt as Bucky has yet lied to him despite everything. Tony has kissed and been kissed by Steve over a hundred times before; it’s a simple way to express affection between two people and if it can stop this harassment, the outburst of Bucky’s anger manifested from the lonely years of lacking friendship, Tony sees to harm in it. Or so he thinks and lets Bucky cup a hand on the back of his skull and press their mouths together.

“Open your mouth.” The words are spoken so close that Tony can feel every syllable shape against his lips.

“What for?”

And that’s when Tony realizes his mistake, shocked by the intrusion of Bucky’s tongue in his mouth. It’s not a disgusting sensation, just very strange, the softness and wetness of another person’s tongue as it licks at Tony’s again and again. Tony can taste the faint saltiness of Bucky and feel the moan vibrating in his throat. Soon, it grows messy to the point where Tony has to swallow, and he finds it impossible to breathe as Bucky deepens the kiss. A shudder shaking his entire frame, his hand, freed from the restraints without his knowing, is fisting around a handful of Bucky’s messy hair.

They keep kissing for what seems like a long time but at last, Bucky releases him and they don’t touch or look at each other anymore.

“I’m not sorry for what I did,” Bucky begins talking after some time.

“You don’t have to be.”

“Ok.” There is a long pause which Tony interprets as the ending of their little conversation but Bucky speaks again just when Tony thinks it’s about time he needs to leave. “I like you.”

“You can’t like me if you don’t know anything about me.”

“But I do. Steve won’t stop talking about you.”

“Which doesn’t mean you know me.”

“Yeah, perhaps.” Another pause much shorter than the first. “You can tell Steve about this if you want.”

“I’ll think about it,” Tony says and lies down, covering his eyes from the sun.

They both know that Tony won’t.

*

Tony sleeps for most of the night, his dreams colorless and soundless. He doesn’t remember any of them except one, probably because of the way it’s constructed and built upon his memory as the foundation. He sees the tentacles entwining with his legs but while he’s been scared in real life, he’s not scared in the dream, and when he looks up, he finds Steve smiling at him and mouthing his name. It grows hazy after that and when the dream rewinds, there’re the tentacles and Steve’s smiling face again.

The alarm goes off at 6:30am. To his utter embarrassment, he wakes up with his underwear soiled in his sleep. Tony takes a shower, does his morning routine without looking at his reflection in the mirror and hides until Jarvis knocks on his door for breakfast.

He blushes all the way through the meal and eats everything Jarvis puts on his plate without complaining. The old man checks his temperature and offers him some Tylenol but doesn’t fuss around him and for that he’s glad.

Friday is slow-moving with too much sun and not enough winds. Tony has been doing a few laps alone to stretch his muscles and cool down when Steve appears out of nowhere from behind, catches him around the waist and pulls him against his body. It’s a familiar move but one Tony couldn’t avoid when he was seven and subsequently didn’t see any reason why he should when it was a lot better to melt into Steve instead.

They come to the rock on which Steve seats him.

“How are you feeling?” Steve touches Tony’s forehead with a hand and Tony can feel himself flushing red to the roots of his hair.

But then he remembers that Steve is coming to say goodbye and becomes a little upset.

“Are you leaving me?”

Steve’s only response is to hug Tony’s waist and pet his back.

“Steve?” Tony struggles in an attempt to get Steve look at him.

Steve sighs dejectedly. “Has Bucky told you? Yeah, I may have to go somewhere.”

“Steve, don’t leave me,” Tony says in a rush of panic despite having prepared for it and hugs Steve back as best as he can without getting into water with him, sadness and a profound sense of loss overcoming him.

“I have to do this.” The line is spoken with such a steely determination that Tony knows he will appear selfish if he is to ask Steve not to go and the end result still won’t change. So there’s nothing to say other than acceptance and resignation.

“When are you going to come back?”

“Not in a few months. A year, two years or ten years? I don’t know. You don’t have to wait for me.”

It sounds a bit as if Steve is telling him to find someone else to like. Tony nearly chokes on the words as he asks. “Are you asking for the stone back?”

He’ll give it up if that is what Steve wants even though the token is the only thing of Steve that he has, and he’s been wearing it constantly for the last six years and growing used to the weight around his neck.

“No, I’m not,” Steve says, a kindly smile playing on his lips, “unless you don’t want it anymore.”

“I want it.”

“I want it,” Tony repeats.

Steve pulls Tony’s head down to kiss him lightly, still one of those chaste little kisses that bring amusement to Steve’s eyes at the unwilling blush on Tony’s face.

It comes to Tony that there’s still so much about Steve that he doesn’t know, partly because Steve doesn’t speak of important matters perhaps in fear of him being unhappy, and partly because he’s never quite got over their differences to get to know Steve. But right now, he truly wants to with the dream still on the edge of his vision.

“Give me one of your tentacles.”

Steve raises an eyebrow in question but one of those tentacles surfaces to slip into Tony’s waiting palm, smooth, large and more agile than a finger. Tony touches the suction cups on the limb curiously.

“They give me my sense of touch, much like human hands but a lot more acute,” Steve comments without being asked. “I have eight of them but the third arm is… different. I can walk if that’s required but swimming is a lot faster.”

Tony pulls playfully at the limb and feels it pull back in return which makes him laugh a little. When he places it on his thigh, it immediately curls around his leg and Steve looks down as if he just realizes that it’s moved without his conscious control.

“Steve, that’s fine. Put another one around my other leg.” Tony interrupts Steve’s intention to remove himself with his words and cradles Steve’s head in his hands.

“Tony.”

Steve looks up just as Tony bends down and kisses him. Since Steve’s mouth is close, he flicks his tongue out to touch Steve’s lips and tentatively slips a little between, his hands naturally winding in the golden damp strands of Steve’s hair that never seem to get tangled. Then, Steve parts his mouth to let him in and at the same time, a second tentacle winds around his leg, the suction cups quite pleasant on his bare skin now that he knows it’s a different way Steve touches him and Steve possibly prefers that method to his human hand.

The kiss also feels different, not so much in the technique because he’s mimicking the way Bucky has kissed him but here, his heart flutters in his chest from excitement instead of trepidation. He likes the taste of Steve’s mouth. Likes the fullness of Steve’s lips and the way Steve brushes his tongue against his.

It doesn’t last for long. Tony stammers an apology after they part. Steve’s eyes are a dark blue, startlingly beautiful on his pale skin, slight flushed now and Tony thinks he wants to kiss Steve again.

Rather than forgive Tony, which would negate the new development of their relationship, Steve presses him down on his back and simultaneously hauls himself up, his body covering Tony’s and blocking out the sunlight.

If Bucky’s kiss has been slow and explorative, Steve’s kiss is explosive and consuming, carrying the unbridled strength of Steve’s emotions and needs. Tony is overwhelmed by how much Steve’s tongue is filling his mouth, and all he can do is to suck on it and moan noisily.  He’s getting lost in Steve, the headiness of his kiss, the radiating heat of his body, and the rhythm of Steve’s strong heartbeats.

By the time Tony is let go, he’s gasping and panting with difficulty, flushing hard. Steve’s mouth has moved on to worry one side of his neck and when Tony turns his head in an attempt to follow Steve’s mouth, it only exposes the untouched skin on the other side for Steve to nuzzle. The tentacles are still on his legs, wet, slippery and just a little ticklish.

One of Steve’s hands sets on his stomach and it’s so big that Tony feels as if every bit of his torso is covered, the heat slowly sinking into him, spreading through his body and setting alight his nerves. It is dizzying. It must be what intoxication feels like.

“You’re so sweet, so good, and so perfect,” Steve praises him breathlessly, a low ragged whisper suggesting that he’s perhaps as voluptuously drunk as Tony is.

A cool wind strokes Tony’s face, not enough to abate the fervent heat. Steve is trailing his lips to the middle of Tony’s chest where the stone lies and licking it, the initial hint of wetness blossoming into the full sensation of Steve’s tongue on his skin, the caress of lips and the light scrape of teeth on the red protrusion of his nipple.

“Steve,” Tony groans, hands gripping Steve’s shoulders, embarrassed by what they’re doing and the sounds he’s making.

Tony’s flat stomach jumps at the whisper of lips that has left the place where his rib cage meets the softer part of his torso. He’s trembling, aching, and not knowing what he needs. Steve is still trailing his mouth down and they’re moving somewhere Tony is not ready for. In the fog of his brain, he half-wants Steve to stop or slow down even if he doesn’t have it in him to say ‘no’ to Steve.

But Steve seems to read him because the next thing he knows, Steve is kissing his knees very slowly—left first and then right—and just like that, it’s over.

Steve lies down next to him, pillows his own head on one arm and pulls Tony to him for a cuddle. In the distance, the sun has begun to sink, suffusing the horizon with a warm orange glow.  It takes Tony a while to calm down and longer for Steve to talk.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” Steve suddenly sounds so sad. “I just want to have something of you to remember.”

Tony wants to say ‘And you could have it’ but the moment is gone and it doesn’t seem appropriate anymore. So he shifts closer, inhales deeply in Steve’s scent and enjoys another moment in Steve’s arm before the light is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did take some elements from the comics and I want to explain here.
> 
> What actually happens is that at the end of WWII, earthquakes and the subsequent fight destroyed Atlantis. Namor lost his memory and wandered New York until Johnny Storm found and helped him. When he returned, he found Atlantis gone, blamed the humans for it, and later on led his people to invade New York.
> 
> Attuma is the chieftain of Skarka who has attacked Atlantis and ruled it at one point.


End file.
